As the Sun Sets
by Niamhgold
Summary: You've heard of "As the World Turns", well here's it's Gargoyles equivalent! This time, on "As the Sun Sets," the Quarrymen are organized, Broadway and Brooklyn deal with Angela, and Goliath and Elisa finally talk about the morning after.


AS THE SUN SETS  
By Niamhgold at niamhgold@hotmail.com  
  
Well, finally, I've decided to write about how Elisa and Goliath talk  
about "the morning after." Truthfully, this story was long in coming, but   
I just had to set it up before our favorite couple could get the spotlight.  
  
For any of you who can tell, the title "As the Sun Sets" is sort of   
a spin off of "As the World Turns." In here, not only do Goliath and Elisa  
have that long-awaited talk, Broadway and Brooklyn push things to the   
limit with Angela, Derek and Maggie make their appearance, the GTF get their  
first "hard core" assignment, and Castaway and Titus are having the time  
of their lives. So, you can see that this is a regular, old soap opera.  
You should read "...Of Things to Come," "Stealing My Heart," "The Full Bounty,"  
and "A Fool's Pot of Gold" to understand what's going on, and "Bronx's Night  
Out" couldn't hurt either.   
  
Oh, and for those of you who are as happy as I am: WE WON!! WE   
PROVED TO THE ENTIRE WORLD WHICH SHOW TAKES THE CAKE!!! Gargoyles rule!  
And Doctor Will is sooooooo in the dark!  
  
We're better than Barney!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
Thanks for all those wonderful people who wrote me with comments and  
what not, I really appreciate it, for it's the mail that keeps the authors   
going. And you wouldn't want there to be no fanfiction, would you?  
  
DISCLAIMER: Gargoyles are the property of Buena Vista and Disney,  
and not of me! I'm not making any money off this, and I'm not planning to,  
mind you! Looney Tunes are mentioned in here, and they're also not mine,   
and the better-than-Barney thing comes from Bill Faggerbaake. All other   
characters herein are mine, and mine only. Please ask before using them.  
  
There's some profanity, and maybe one sexual reference, *if you can  
find it!*  
  
****************************************************************************  
  
PREVIOUSLY, ON _GARGOYLES_  
  
Broadway: "Right. I'm just a big, dumb gargoyle with his brains in  
his stomach."  
  
Brooklyn: "Couldn't have said it better."  
  
________*** HER BROTHER'S KEEPER ***________  
  
Elisa: "Are you all right? Is there anything you need?"  
  
Goliath: "Yes. I need...a detective."  
  
_______*** REAWAKENING ***_______  
  
  
Angela: "The winner does not get to keep me!"  
  
________*** TURF ***________  
  
  
Jon Canmore: "The hunt is _not_ over!!!!!!!"  
  
*  
Goliath: "So...things have come full circle."  
  
Elisa: "Somehow, they always do. You know how I feel about you,  
right?"  
  
Goliath: "How...we both feel. Yes."  
  
Elisa: "Good." (Plants a quick kiss on Goliath before the sun rises)  
  
______*** HUNTER'S MOON, PART 3 ***______  
  
  
Xanatos: "Broadway and Brooklyn are, as you know, too busy settling  
their undefined dispute..."  
  
*  
Reuben: "Monsters!"  
  
Broadway: "Look, sir, we'll help you clean it--"  
  
Reuben: "Get back! You devils! Get out of my shop! GET OUT!"  
  
*  
Christopher Guild: (to Mayor) "Of course, sir. But let me assure   
you, this is an absolutely fool proof plan. We keep the people happy, even  
if we don't give them the bloodshed they want. What can they do in the   
meanwhile?"  
  
_____*** ...OF THINGS TO COME ***______  
  
  
Elisa: "Cupid, huh? And you say you're an archer?"  
  
Cupid: "Forget the paperwork. And just go to him. You've done  
nothing to be ashamed of."  
  
______*** STEALING MY HEART ***______  
  
  
Jon Canmore: "Meet me at this address in three weeks with as many   
people as possible. I want all of Manhattan to know the evil of gargoyles!"  
  
-  
He closed his eyes, his mind trying to replace this foreboding feeling  
with the memories of an October morning, back at the castle, and a most   
wonderful kiss on Elisa's part.  
  
But even that was not enough. Not even Elisa had been a comfort   
lately.  
  
-  
Jon Canmore: "And I was thinking...I need a name. How does 'Jon   
Castaway' sound to you?"  
  
______*** CROSS OF GOLD ***______  
  
* * * * *   
  
("Get started, already!)  
  
"Okay, okay! Without further ado...  
  
  
============================================================================  
  
___ AS THE SUN SETS ___  
  
=============================================================================  
  
Central Park:  
  
"Just hand over the money and no one will get hurt," he announced,  
shoving the gun into the air in an attempt at suave persuasion. He watched in   
semi-satisfaction as the two young men handed over their wallets.   
  
His partner inspected the wallets and found them in quite good shape.  
She nodded at him and they turned back to the two victims.  
  
"So...are you going to let us go?"  
  
He just laughed as something rustled in the bushes. "We'll just   
have to see..."  
  
Roar! Three huge masses of heavy strength exploded from the brush.  
Their eyes glowed a frightening shade of blue-white, and fangs could be seen  
past three vicious snarls.   
  
His partner didn't waste any time in reacting. "Gargoyles!" Fleance   
yelled, and she fired three shots from her pistol.   
  
Two of the bullets missed, but the third tore through the flesh of the   
front creature's thigh. It doubled over in pain, the glow of its eyes  
flashing momentarily brighter, as the others shrieked in horror. A   
very tall, unhurt, purple one leapt straight into their attacker.   
  
Both crashed backwards into a park bench and broke it into nasty-  
looking pieces. The purple gargoyle landed on top of Fleance. She fought  
bravely, watching closely as her partner whipped out his own pistol. Looking   
through the scope, Banquo found he had a once-in-a-lifetime sighting right   
between the monster's shoulder blades. He smiled crookedly and aimed...  
  
And the gun fell from his hands as a tail wrapped around his wrists.  
He was flung up against the length of the other unhurt beast, and this one  
was red as hell itself. The gun struck the ground and fired. The bullet   
hit one of the two men that had been mugged. He fell to the ground hard,   
wailing like a pussy and grasping his wounded shoulder.  
  
His friend just stared at his fallen companion for a moment and   
then angrily lifted a hefty piece of the park bench's remains. He ran toward  
the red gargoyle and swung it right at its beak. The bone and cartilage   
there cracked grossly, a spray of blood splattering almost artistically against  
Fleance's face. The red creature picked up the man with the stick and slammed   
he and MacBeth's once-flunky together.   
  
The rest of the fight went by in a blur. By the time the thrumming  
had died down in Banquo's ears, and the white flashes in front of   
his eyes had ebbed as well, those gargoyles had called the police and were gone.  
  
Fleance was bound next to him by their own ropes. His naughty mind   
reasoned that this wouldn't be such a bad situation if they weren't in the middle   
of Central Park, in front of the two men they had "mugged." But, of course,   
work was work, and as he watched as one of the two pressed hard on the other's  
wound, he knew that they were doing _their_ work. A sudden rustling in the   
bushes made him and his air-force buddy go rigid.  
  
"Relax," came a voice from behind them.   
  
In the next minute, he felt the ropes go slack and a helping hand   
pulled him and Fleance to his feet. He looked up at the savior with the video   
camera, and smiled. "Well, well. How was that for action, Rift?"  
  
Rift, who turned out to be a tall, slender camera woman dressed in   
leather, motioned for the "muggers" and their "victims" into the clearing.   
"I've got to say, you guys put on a pretty good show for a couple of amateur   
actors."   
  
The man with the bleeding shoulder grumbled. "You could have warned   
me that the bullet would go through the armor." He pulled up his sleeve to   
show the area where the bullet had grazed, and been removed.   
  
Fleance yanked off her mask and shook out her brownish-blond hair,   
pointing at the wounded man's friend. "Just be happy Seyton was carrying the   
anesthetic."   
  
Banquo ignored them all and turned back to Rift. "Whatever. So long   
as we got what we came for."  
  
Rift smiled and pulled out a videotape, holding it up for her  
cohorts to see. "Got it all right here. Some substitutions, some editing,  
and this could be the next Oscar-winning film."  
  
"Don't get carried away, Speilberg. Let's just get it to Castaway  
before the police pop up, okay?"  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Castle Wyvern.  
  
Goliath scaled the stairs ahead of them, taking his steps deliberately  
slow while his arms remained tense and unmoving at his sides. Two clenched  
balls of fists were closed with such strain that it became possible to see   
the unique arrangement of his gargoyle tendons. His breathing came out in   
shallow growls.  
  
Behind him, Brooklyn was simultaneously rubbing his sore jaw while  
his free arm supported an injured Broadway. The second in command kept a wise   
distance behind the leader, lest Goliath's angrily flicking tail knock  
him off balance.  
  
In a few minutes, they emerged on the main turret, where Hudson  
was training Angela in some of the more ancient gargoyle battle tactics. Both  
paused when they saw the disheveled party.  
  
"Oh, my goodness!" Angela cried, looking past her father to where   
Brooklyn and Broadway had collapsed. She knelt near the aquamarine gargoyle,  
ran a hand along his injured leg, then eased up the makeshift bandage and  
gaped at the wound. "What happened?"  
  
Brooklyn, when it became obvious that Goliath was in no mood to   
respond, replied, "We went to take down some muggers in the park and they  
decided to do some taking down of their own." He rubbed his jaw again.   
"Even the victims we were trying to help got brave. One hit me with a piece  
of wood."  
  
Angela sighed. "When will they learn that we're only here to help?"  
  
"I don't know," Broadway finally managed to speak. "But it shouldn't  
take a detective to figure it out."  
  
Hudson stroked his beard and looked to Goliath. "Maybe it should.  
Where is Elisa? Or Bluestone?"  
  
Goliath just walked over to Broadway and with one stiff yank, had  
the gargoyle back on his feet. "Angela, you help Broadway to his post.   
Brooklyn, tell Lexington it is almost sunrise. Hudson, find Bronx."  
  
They all said their "ayes" and tended to Goliath's orders. He, himself,  
scaled the stones to his private tower and kneeled upon one of the battlements  
morosely.  
  
***************************************************************************  
  
"Well, we were thinking of fixing this place up into a library or a den,   
that way Maggie can...Elisa?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Earth to Elisa! Jeeze, sis, have you heard a single word I've said  
all day?" Talon tapped his pawed foot anxiously.   
  
Elisa yawned and ran a hand through her hair, a little flustered.   
"Sorry, Derek. It's just that with Matt on the Task Force, my work load's  
double what it used to be."  
  
"Oh, brother. So you mean you're getting even less sleep than usual?"  
  
Maggie came up to them with three cups of coffee. "Well, Elisa," she  
said. "Why don't you have Captain Chavez find you another partner?"  
  
The detective took a swig and put up her hand. "Uh-uh. No way. Not  
after what happened with Jason."  
  
Talon's coal-black fur briefly sizzled with electricity. "Oh, yeah.   
_Him_. I would really like to meet that jerk."  
  
"He's paralyzed, Derek. I don't think you could do any worse than  
that."  
  
The panther mutate exchanged a glance with Maggie. "Try me."  
  
"Whatever, Mister Getting-to-be-as-protective-as-Goliath." Elisa shook   
her head and laughed, not wanting to let thoughts of Jason's misery bring her   
mood down lower. "Just go back to telling me about this new room. How much   
will you need for the supplies?"  
  
"Actually, Elisa, we have the money for it. We'd just like you to  
to go topside and purchase the stuff." Maggie answered, threading her tawny  
arm through Talon's.  
  
Elisa regarded them with a smile, which quickly turned into a questioning  
glance. Derek sighed. "Some of the homeless you found jobs for have offered   
to pay us for food and renovations, providing that they can live here. After   
all, it is cheaper than renting a third-story apartment."  
  
"Why, you little business man! Don't tell me you're getting as   
sneaky as Xanatos!"  
  
"I won't," he growled, his and Maggie's glares growing cold. "And I   
really don't think your friends should be living with him again, either."  
  
"Let's not get started on that argument. Just because I let the clan   
go back does not mean I trust that snake in the grass."   
  
Maggie cleared her throat. She combed away some errant strands from   
her amber mane. "Speaking of the clan, Elisa, when are they going to come   
back and visit us?"  
  
"Uh..." Crap, she thought to herself. In the few times she'd  
been to the castle in the last two months, she'd learned that the whole clan  
was a little nervous about venturing down to the place of their clones.   
After all, when Goliath had told her of Delilah, it had taken her a while   
before she had decided to meet her.  
  
Derek, his transformation not having affected his acute police skills,   
read his older sister's thoughts. "It's because they don't want to see the  
others."  
  
Elisa lowered her voice a notch, so that Brentwood and Malibu and   
Delilah, who were playing a cute little game, couldn't hear her. "They're...  
uncomfortable. To them, it's like someone stole their soul and corrupted it."  
  
"Well, you'll just have to convince Goliath that they are anything   
but corrupted. They can even use verbs now."   
  
"I'll...I'll see what I can do." She looked at her watch. "I should   
probably get going, though. Do you have your shopping list?"  
  
Maggie called to Claw, who brought in a small pad of paper and a bank  
bag filled with money. The tiger mutate silently expressed his greeting to  
Talon's sister and left.  
  
Elisa rifled through the cash and her eyes widened. "If you made this  
much down here, I wonder how much I could get for renting out my apartment?!"  
  
Talon laughed as he watched her leave. "I don't think Goliath would   
approve of that!" he called, just as she quickly, and thankfully, disappeared   
through the door.   
  
Elisa had always considered it a tedious and time-consuming task whenever  
her brother forced her to memorize the different tunnels of the Labyrinth. But  
today, as she navigated the murky passages alone, she was grateful that she  
had heeded Derek's advice.   
  
By the time she got to her Fairlane, it was noon and she was starving.  
Looking in her rearview mirror to brush her hair, she pulled into a space in  
front of Rosy's. This was the restaurant she and Matt used to go to on break.  
  
Elisa seated herself at the usual both and ordered the usual turkey   
sandwich. After that was done, she pulled out some case files and tried to  
look over them. Her attention, however, quickly moved to other things.  
  
Talon and Maggie might as well have stuck a sign to their foreheads.  
They thought they were hiding it pretty well, but it was obvious to Derek's  
intuitive sister that they were in love. Elisa snickered, remembering the   
numerous times she had found them making out in the many corners of the Labyrinth.   
Part of her was relieved that he had found some happiness in his new, accursed  
form, but the other half of her was jealous.  
  
Her thoughts were momentarily interrupted as the waitress sat her  
order in front of her.  
  
Elisa took a few bites. Yes, she was jealous. After two years, she   
had finally thought she was ready to admit a relationship with Goliath, and   
she thought the seal had been that one kiss. But thanks to embarrassment,   
she could count the number of times she'd been to visit the clan since then on   
one hand. She had hoped that Goliath would come seek her out to give her his   
reassurance, but it was apparent that either (a) gargoyles suffered from the   
same pride as human men or (b) she had gone too far.  
  
A shadow darkened her table and a hand tapped her case report folders.   
"Break-ins and larceny. Auto theft. Boy, what I wouldn't do to have that   
shit back."  
  
"Matt!" Elisa jumped up in surprise, nearly knocking over her water.  
"Don't scare me like that!"  
  
He slung his trench coat over the bench across from her and took the   
liberty of seating himself. He ordered some fries and rested his chin on   
one hand. "Heyya, ex-partner."  
  
Elisa eyed him closely. "I know that look. You need to hit the sack."  
  
Matt nodded and yawned, sinking lower. "GTF isn't anything fun,  
Elisa. My sleeping habits have become almost as bad as yours."  
  
"What's up?"  
  
"Gargoyles, that's what." He laughed at his own joke, while she just  
sighed. "Goliath and the clan have no idea how their midnight patrols are   
affecting the city. Vandalism is up. Threats are up. People are taking   
justice into their own hands." He looked up at Elisa sympathetically. "And   
the only thing we can do about it is take the same old names."  
  
"So you're getting paid twice what I am just to sit on your duff?"  
  
"It's not that simple." He dug a crumpled sheet of paper from  
his khakis and spread it out in front of her. "We found this at a burned-out  
newspaper stand."  
  
Elisa began gathering all her stuff and slid on her bomber jacket.   
"I've got to tell them."  
  
Matt looked up. "Aww, and I was just getting used to the company.   
Promise me you won't let the guys come to this thing tonight and put my job  
on the line?"  
  
"I promise," she replied, crossing her heart. "But that doesn't mean  
they'll stop patrolling."  
  
"Fine." His gaze fell to her picked-at meal. "Can I have your sandwich?   
They don't let us order out on the force."  
  
"Yes, Matt."  
  
****************************************************************************  
  
Castaway's Headquarters  
  
The red gargoyle picked up the gun with his tail, growled with flaming   
eyes, aimed at the helpless victim, and fired. The poor man, who had just   
been walking through the park with his friend, clutched his shoulders and   
collapsed to the ground. The purple gargoyle on top of the jogger Fleance   
snapped one of her joints and sent her flying into her running partner, Banquo.   
A close up shot of a gargoyle's face, staring directly into the camera. Then,   
static.  
  
The lights flashed back on and Rift ejected the tape. The television  
screen went black. From the back of the room, one man clapped while another   
merely crossed his arms.  
  
Titus patted Rift on the back. "What did I tell you, Jon? Is this a   
talented individual or what?"  
  
Castaway extended his hand and Rift shook it excitedly. "I must   
admit, a crowd-pleaser, Mrs...Rift."  
  
She smiled, displaying a small tongue ring. "Oh, a couple of snips  
of the reel, some pasting and copying and cutting, and instead of gargoyles  
coming to stop a mugging, you have a trio of monsters attacking four helpless  
victims. Makes me wish I could enter it into the Film Festival."   
  
"Well, my dear," came Castaway's long-practiced British accent, "You're  
giving it up to a much worthier cause."  
  
"Oh, am I?" Her tongue flicked out again.  
  
Titus, trying not to laugh at Jon's flaming expression, grabbed Rift  
around the shoulders and steered her to the door. "That's enough. I'll see  
you tonight." He gave her a wink.  
  
She pouted, camera still in hand. "Can't you get your friend to come?"  
  
He shook his head and shut the door. Jon eyed him coldly. "You have  
not changed. Bloody company you keep."  
  
They turned to regard the old cellar of the aging apartment complex  
Jon had bought, which had been renovated to look like some underground theater.  
One large sculpture took up half of the platform they had built, painstakingly  
carved to match Jon's description of a gargoyle. Some guns and other assorted  
weapons lay up against a wall, thanks to eager suppliers. And, of course,   
a projection screen and about a thousand chairs. They called the building  
the "Convenance."  
  
And all of it had been ingeniously arranged to cover another act they were   
planning for that night.  
  
Titus ran his hand along the weapons rack. "You'd better hand these  
out to the 'volunteers.' If you have too many here when the others arrive,  
they'll get the wrong idea. You don't want to lose any customers, do you?"  
  
Jon hit the intercom button to signal his recruits and just smiled.  
"Hmmm. After tonight, they'll be no fear. Only trust that I can help lead  
humanity to a new level in understanding."  
  
Titus rolled his eyes.  
  
***************************************************************************  
  
The Eyrie,  
  
The sun was a rippling, warm disc of gold on the western horizon. The  
last rays of its warmth touched orange to Elisa Maza's form as she stepped  
out of her Fairlane and looked up at the massive Eyrie Building. She tried  
to shake off her nervousness, to look more like her hardened cop self, and   
took one deep breath.  
  
The crinkle of the flyer in her pocket quickly erased all notions  
of turning around and running away. Despite the awkwardness, despite any   
mistake she may have made in kissing Goliath, she had a greater obligation   
to warn the clan about what was happening.  
  
She stepped through the door and greeted the guard.  
  
****************************************************************************  
  
Elsewhere:  
  
Reuben paced the confines of the small shop nervously. The meager spread   
of the flood lights illuminated his restless form, as well as the paperweight  
he tossed between his two hands. The eighteen year-old kept eyeing the clock   
and the window, one after another. What if his ride didn't show? What if he   
had told Father? Oh, God...  
  
Like clockwork, eight p.m., the grisly brown Sedan pulled up outside the   
building. Reuben breathed a sigh of relief, and tried to put the paperweight back   
on the counter without his shaking hands dropping it. He flipped over the "Open"  
sign and pulled on his coat, sliding into the car before any yellow-bellied second   
thoughts had a chance to enter his mind.  
  
His escort looked back at him via the rearview mirror. "If your father knew  
I was bringing you here, he'd kill me, let alone send in the cops. So I must   
re-emphasize the point that what we're doing is a _secret_."  
  
"Of course," Reuben swallowed, edging down into the leather seats.  
  
****************************************************************************  
  
Castle Wyvern,  
  
From the top of his tower, Goliath solemnly watched the six of his  
clanmates stretch and tend to their evening duties. Angela, Lexington, and  
Broadway went out on the first patrol. Hudson went inside with Brooklyn   
for the evening's breakfast.  
  
With a low, drawn out sigh, Wyvern's clan leader turned toward the  
stairs of his turret. Fleetingly his eyes searched his surroundings, with   
dimming hope waiting for that moment when _she_ might show up. The longer they   
went without seeing each other, the more he was convinced things could never   
be resolved. They had much to talk about.  
  
Goliath shook his head and heavily descended the stairs. His tail  
swished frustratingly behind him as his thoughts went off on _that_ tangent   
again, and his concentration was so internally spent that he nearly collided with   
Xanatos. The billionaire sidestepped Goliath just in time.  
  
Xanatos ahemmed, watching amusedly as the large gargoyle finally   
recognized his presence. He held a white sheet of paper almost tauntingly in   
Goliath's direction. "I do believe you asked for my assistance on this?"  
  
"What did you find out?" Goliath, as dignified and outwardly concealing   
as ever, indifferently accepted the blue-and-red-and-white piece of paper.  
  
"Not much, really. Owen believes it will be a rally. I had him search  
for other advertisements like these, but they only give the same information.  
My suggestion is you do nothing until you know the circumstances."  
  
Goliath growled. "Broadway was shot in the park last night, Brooklyn  
wounded as well. If these are the circumstances, then I believe they warrant  
our attention."  
  
Xanatos stuck at Goliath's side and escorted him to the Great Hall.   
"Of course. Detective Maza's here; why don't you ask her what can be done?"  
  
Xanatos, an expert at reading facial expressions, just barely caught   
the gargoyle's quick reaction, before, in the next moment, his stony demeanor  
returned. He smiled and left Goliath at the door of the Great Hall, just as   
Elisa, Hudson, and Bronx entered from the opposite side.  
  
They didn't notice Goliath at first; both backs were toward him.  
Elisa bent down to pet Bronx. Sleep-starved eyes and weariness dominated her  
features, more so than usual. Could it be that she had been as apprehensive   
as he? Goliath strained to hear their conversation.   
  
"...I don't know, Hudson. If these people need an outlet for their  
bigotism and their fear and their hatred, this gives them the perfect   
opportunity. I guess I'd just feel better if I knew what was going on   
in there." Bronx's tongue flopped happily out of one side of his mouth as   
Elisa stroked his brow ridges.   
  
Hudson, who had been regarding a crumpled piece of paper, passed it to  
the detective, allowing Goliath to catch a glimpse of its red, white, and   
blue countenance. The big gargoyle compared that to the one he already held   
in his hand and was finally clued in as to what the two were discussing.   
  
"Lass, ye cannot jump at the first hint of trouble. 'Tis the biggest  
mistake ye can make in a battle."  
  
"I'm trying to make sure this doesn't _become_ a battle." She took a   
deep breath and stood up, causing Bronx to whine. "Maybe we should talk to   
Goliath about this."  
  
Goliath straightened his shoulders and picked that moment to walk into   
the room. "Talk to me about what?"  
  
Both female detective and elder turned to regard him. His wings were   
partly open, head held up in that super-defensive posture, and he looked about   
as worry-worn as Elisa. Standing stiffly across from her, they exchanged a   
glance, until she diverted her eyes to Bronx's lazing form. Hudson cleared   
his throat. Had he not been an elder, Goliath would have scolded the old   
gargoyle for the openly amused twinkle in his eyes.  
  
"The lass here be bringing a paper for gargoyle removal. She thought  
ye'd need te look it o'er."   
  
Elisa unfolded her pamphlet and shoved it towards Goliath at the same  
time he opened his hands and offered her his. She looked at him with mute  
curiosity, but her manner remained the same.  
  
"You know, then, too," she surmised.  
  
"Yes," he admitted. " I had Xanatos try to find some information   
regarding this, but there were no other...leads."  
  
"Xanatos checked? I'm sure it was Owen that did all the work."  
  
"Did _you_ discover anything?" He asked, casting a warning glance   
in Hudson's direction as he tried to slip away and leave the two alone.  
  
"Only that Matt and the GTF are going to be staking out the place.  
But even if there is something fishy going on in there, he's forbidden to   
make any arrests. There's really nothing we can do yet."  
  
Of course, it had been an understanding in the beginning that there   
was nothing the clan could do about the public's choice to hate, and that   
was why Goliath had told only Xanatos of the flyer. Hudson knew it was   
pointless to stand around and discuss such a moot topic, so this time Goliath  
was not able to make him stay. He and Elisa were finally alone.  
  
And silence reigned. Each stood there in that frustrating grasping-for-  
conversation-material state of mind, trying to find other areas of focus in the  
room. Goliath felt a sudden wave of nostalgia when he remembered all the times  
Elisa would come up after work at the clock tower, and how, despite all the noise   
from the street, they would talk hours on end. But now she would no doubt find   
some excuse to leave and he would be left here alone. Unwilling to go through  
that again, he left her side and headed for the towers.  
  
Elisa watched his tail disappear around the corner of the hallway and  
sighed. She turned to leave for an early start at work.  
  
She didn't even realize Brooklyn was leaning against one of the doorways  
she passed. He waved, and she stopped. "Hey, Elisa! How's Derek?"  
  
Jostled by that sudden comment, she failed to hear the wistful tone  
to his voice, which no doubt concerned Maggie. Before she even thought about  
it, Elisa said, "Oh, he's fine. He and Maggie are redecorating the Labyrinth.  
You should see them together, they're so..."  
  
She trailed off, leaving Brooklyn with a very bewildered expression.  
Cute together? Right for each other? Was that what she was going to say?   
Yes, it was. Two people, outwardly mutated, but inwardly still capable of   
the love and commitment that defined sentience. They had ignored all of the  
limits created by their transformations just to share their happiness. They   
had made it possible...  
  
"Then why not?" Elisa half-murmured, half thought. She nearly toppled   
Brooklyn as, with a sudden burst of determination, the raven-haired police   
woman spun and began walking back towards the castle towers. "Thanks,   
Brooklyn!!!" she called back.  
  
"Uh, yeah. No problem." He hung his head.  
  
****************************************************************************  
  
Just outside the "Convenance" Building,  
  
"Look what I got!!!" The door of the van slid open and a lithe man  
with a crude-colored uniform and a Santa sack tumbled in. Everyone inside the  
vehicle shushed and glared at him for the noise the rookie had made. He meekly   
tried to make up for the racket by quietly pulling the sliding door shut.   
After a moment of perked ears and radar-worthy, wary silence, the beep of   
the machinery and the sweep of whispers finally arose.  
  
Scents of cheese and pepperoni wafted up to the front seat as the   
baggage-bearing visitor unwrapped his goods to reveal a pizza. Matt, on the  
passenger side, could feel his mouth watering. He pitched himself from the   
front to the back of the vehicle, rocking it slightly, and rolled next to the   
man in the delivery suit.   
  
"Pizza? How did you _ever_ get permission for this, Michaels?" he asked, but still  
chomped onto a slice anyway. It had been almost preached to them that, unlike  
other stakeouts, the GTF would not be the butt of public jokes by partaking   
in the stereotypical coffee-and-donuts diet definitive of most cops. And that  
was a regime Matt sorely missed.  
  
"Hey, when your brother owns a restaurant, it's kind of easy," Michaels,  
who turned out to be the guy impersonating a pizza delivery boy, said. He  
itched at the polyester of his suit. "Besides, I got close enough to some   
of tonight's attendees to be able to tell that they're not expecting anything...  
demonstrative."  
  
Matt snapped a rather elastic string from his slice of pizza. Inside,   
he was amazed at Michael's progress; a while ago, he had been the eager GTF   
novice working with Matt on the "Bronx" matter, and now he was just one of   
the guys. He paused between mouthfuls. "I still think it would have been   
better if we had slapped a bug on one of them."  
  
"You know the rules," a chubby officer reminded.   
  
"Hey, it's not like there's anything illegal going on in there, anyway,"   
someone else added. "Freedom of speech and assembly, thank God for the Bill   
of Rights."  
  
Matt polished off about half of the pizza, despite the charity sandwich   
Elisa had given him earlier, and clambered back up into the front. He donned   
a pair of binoculars and scanned the area. There was a small, but steady, stream  
of people entering the apartment complex across the street. Nothing looked  
out of the ordinary, which included the fact that neither the gargoyles nor  
Elisa were there.  
  
"This isn't a promotion," he mumbled, throwing down the specs and opening   
a newspaper. "This is Hell."  
  
****************************************************************************  
  
Across town, there was another van parked on an incline of pavement.   
One man rose like a periscope from the dark skylight, peering into the night  
sky.  
  
Three odd-shaped, pixilated blobs passed in front of the lenses. Banquo   
adjusted the night-vision goggles and looked again. Good. The low cloud cover   
was forcing them to glide especially low tonight. He signaled to Fleance.  
  
She had also seen the gargoyles and so acknowledged his request. Her  
deft fingers quickly punched a three-digit number on her cellular.   
  
*"Hello?"*  
  
She winked. "Sky Lark 01. They've been sighted."  
  
*"Where?"*  
  
"Union Square. Heading southeast. Castaway was right; they _are_ in  
a group of three. Do you want us to initiate?"  
  
*"Too many people. I'll send three more dispatches to the Williamsburg  
Bridge. Try to get them there."*  
  
"Over, Titus." She shut the phone and pocketed it. The other fifteen  
men and women in the back of the trailer cast their hopeful faces towards her.  
Caith Fleance just shook her head, silently telling them to keep their patience   
a few minutes longer.  
  
****************************************************************************  
  
The "Convenance" Building,  
  
"I am simply offering you the chance to protect your loved ones   
from a dangerous species. Is that really an offer any of us can afford to  
turn down?"  
  
There were a few skeptical replies and a bunch on enthusiastic "Of  
course nots." Castaway looked over the crowd (all seven hundred fifty of them)  
appreciatively and replayed a segment of Rift's tape. As expected, they were   
horrified by the graphic content of the video. And seeing _was_ believing,   
after all, no matter how the visuals had been manipulated. Despite the   
persuasion of his partner, Castaway held firm in the belief that one day the   
gargoyles would slip up and he would be there to catch it, and then no more   
video editing would be necessary.  
  
He patted his moussed blond hair, styled to match his new, British   
persona. "I will be firm in saying that this association, the Quarrymen," he   
swept his arm behind him so that the group could see the hammer-and-slashmark   
insignia, "Has a wide variety of opportunities for all. Some of you could chose   
to spread awareness of their existence. Others could take neighborhood watches.   
Even more could be on our patrol force."  
  
"Patrol force?" a motherly figure repeated.  
  
"A necessary precaution, mind you. We must have protection against   
the Winged Scourge. Heaven knows the police are doing nothing!!"  
  
"Yeah!"  
  
At his signal, crude ushers began passing out small pamphlets, titled,  
"On the Nature of Gargoyles." Inside were explicit descriptions of the  
barbaric, Viking lifestyles of those demons of the night.  
  
At his signal, someone also handed Castaway a large, heavy, sledgehammer.   
He began circling the replica of a large gargoyle placed in a cleared-out area   
of the room and pumped the handle. As electricity surged around the mallet,   
he could see its glow mirrored in the eyes of his blood-hungry followers.  
  
"We have developed weapons that will effectively stun the beasts so  
that they might be captured. A more complex technology was needed, since   
simple stun-guns and mace have no effect." He pumped the hammer again  
and hefted it above his head, posing perfectly in a silhouetted glow against   
the Quarrymen symbol. "So let me demonstrate the preventive method."  
  
Castaway brought the hammer down, it sparked in its arc, and then it   
slammed down on the statue. Everyone held their breath as the carving shuddered,   
surged with the netlike-path of electricity, and crumbled in on itself. It   
seemed like a very clean procedure.  
  
And then, about ninety percent of the hands raised. "If we join the patrol   
force, do we get to use those?" one asked. Castaway smiled, watching as an   
impressed Titus nodded from the sidelines.  
  
Leaving a lowlier member in charge, Jon ordered him to stall the   
presentation as he went to speak with his partner. "What did I tell you?"  
he gloated. "They are all eager for protection."  
  
Titus smiled. "Guess you were right." He thrust a cell phone in   
Castaway's face. "On another note: three gargoyles have been spotted. I  
sent our Sky Larks to the Williamsburg Bridge. They're waiting for the go   
ahead."  
  
"All according to plan. When they reach the vicinity, tell them to   
initiate attack."  
  
****************************************************************************  
  
Castle Wyvern,  
  
Goliath leaned out over the edge of a battlement, loosing a small avalanche  
of stones which had already been jarred by Taro's attack on the castle a few weeks   
ago. He wordlessly watched them tumble down into the clouds. The mighty   
gargoyle sighed.  
  
Did she understand how he felt? How it was all coming to a head,   
right here and now? How he had pushed away all un-Platonic feelings for  
her in the beginning because of their species difference? How he had tried  
to confront her with the blossoming feelings inside of him as time had progressed,   
how he had fought to make her acknowledge that she was also harboring these   
feelings? And now, when she finally _had_ acknowledged, how he had suddenly felt  
panicked and unsure at the possibility of making a mistake with another mate,   
and, when he needed to be reassured by her the most, she had not visited him   
at all? Had she considered this?  
  
He pounded that battlement again gently with his fist, watching another   
shower of pebbles rain down upon the city, this time freed by his own strength.   
Goliath folded in his wings and stared out at the darkening horizon.  
  
It was not long before he keenly sensed her presence, behind him.   
His breathing became irregular. His nerves seemed to bounce to the surface of   
his lavender skin and lay there, tingling, for the endless eternity during   
which neither of them spoke. He could almost picture her slim form staring   
out at the violet-blushed skies.  
  
Finally, her soft footsteps sauntered up to him and she breathed out   
deeply, her exhale touching him with her human warmth. Elisa then placed a   
small, delicate hand on his back.  
  
"Hey," she whispered, sounding much less rigid than she had appeared  
in the Great Hall. "How are you doing with..." she paused, searched for a   
topic, and noticed the flyer in his belt. "...the whole anti-Gargoyle thing?"  
  
"Well enough, I suppose..." he replied, blinking a few extra times.  
She sidled up to him and leaned over an adjacent battlement.  
  
"Nice night," she tried again.  
  
Goliath resisted the desire to plunge his hands into her dark hair.   
Instead, he sighed, "Elisa, I believe we may have to talk."  
  
"Well, I'm all ears."   
  
"I am serious."   
  
Elisa shook her head. "I know, I know. I've wanted to talk about...  
that...too. I just couldn't find the right moment." She chuckled wryly. "Or   
the nerve."  
  
Goliath angled his head down towards her, so that their conversation  
seemed less intimidating. "I was worried that you didn't mean what you had  
done, and so would never come to see us again."  
  
She put both hands on his claws. "Goliath, no matter how hard I   
might try, I could never forget about you guys. This clan is my second family.   
Besides, I meant every ounce of that kiss."  
  
His eyes widened. "You do not regret...? Then, why did you not come  
and visit me? I had begun to think...with Jason..."  
  
Her stare returned to the sky. "Because I knew what you went through  
with Demona. Because I knew this world had done enough to rip you from your  
old ways. I wasn't sure that a relationship with a human would help that.  
Jason was just one of those flukes that helped me realize how I really felt."  
  
"The more I waited, the less assured I was that this would succeed," he   
disclosed. Seeing her shiver, Goliath gingerly placed an arm around her shoulder   
and drew her closer. "I do not want to rush anything, Elisa. I do not want to   
ruin what we already have. But, if this is meant to be...then I do not want   
to ruin that, either."   
  
She accepted his embrace, but stayed a decent distance away. "Is  
that what you think happened with Demona?" she probed, preparing himself for  
one of his changes in subject.  
  
Goliath surprised her by answering. "Perhaps, perhaps not. Even back   
then there were signs of her hatred toward humanity, her distrust of the Prince  
and the human guards. She pushed me to be leader so that her rank would move  
to a more...convenient position. I was childishly attracted to her for beauty,   
and strength, and warrior's pride. Some of the same things I see in you."  
  
"Oh, God, do _not_ tell me that!"  
  
"But that are where the similarities end. You have an open mind, an  
open heart, and such a sense of honor that I pity she never had." His   
features suddenly shifted, drawing him back to the present. "I am very glad   
that you came tonight, Elisa. As always, your valuable friendship has put me   
at ease."  
  
Elisa smiled. "Slow, then," she murmured, almost as if agreeing with   
his unsaid thoughts. "We'll take it real slow."  
  
****************************************************************************  
  
Meanwhile,  
  
Ross Banquo cut the wheel sharply, causing the whole, high-profile van to   
wobble and screech to a severe halt. The people inside haphazardly fell on top  
of one another as Fleance gave him a reprimanding look.   
  
"They fly a little faster than the city's speed limit," he curtly   
explained, pointing a figure at the forms approaching the Williamsburg Bridge   
from the sky. "Call Titus again and tell him everyone's here."  
  
"Everyone" included four vans of about fifteen people each. Sixty people  
total, ranging from firefighters to army veterans to plain, common thugs. And   
for the mere benefit of Castaway's exaggerated pay, they had all come together  
to attack a handful of ancient Scottish beasts. Fleance had been put in charge  
with Banquo, only because service with MacBeth had given them the experience  
of interspecial combat.  
  
****************************************************************************  
  
Near the Williamsburg Bridge:  
  
Angela and Broadway soared together up in front, with Lexington  
close behind. Fog slightly misted their skin. The air was so thick  
with humidity that the speech from Angela and her aquamarine buddy hung   
in the sky, allowing Lexington to listen in.  
  
They were discussing a book, the green gargoyle discerned.  
  
Broadway, the picture of eager youth, was relishing the fact that  
Brooklyn wasn't present. He criss-crossed his arms behind his head and   
caught a roll, momentarily taking on the guise of a lazy swimmer doing the  
back float. Angela laughed and shoved him away.  
  
"Broadway, pay attention! Did you figure out the mystery?" she  
interrupted gently.  
  
"No problem," he bragged in return. He'd taken to Agatha Christie   
with a passion, and, with help from most everyone except Brooklyn, was going  
through them like a locust goes through crops. "This one was easy."  
  
"It was called 'Sleeping Murder,' right?" Angela asked.   
  
The large male glided even closer. "Yeah. It was really neat. Partly  
because it had Miss Marple in it. That lady's the best."  
  
"Oh, Broadway," Angela shook her head.  
  
They were getting close to a not-too-extraordinary bridge, probably   
the Williamsburg. Lex floated lower to avoid the pesky fog and at that point  
noticed a free-for-all of vans parked on the ground below him. A news crew,   
maybe? They looked they were setting up cameras and lights.  
  
"Uh, guys? Maybe we should turn around. We don't want to be caught  
on the eleven o'clock..."  
  
CA-FWANK! What had looked like meager spotlights from the aerial   
point of view suddenly revealed themselves to be piercing search lights.   
A shaft of fluorescence exploded suddenly through the clouds and caught  
the three gargoyles in the open. They shielded their eyes at the brightness,  
dropping a few feet in the air, and in that stunned moment their ears picked  
up the sound of discharging machine guns. The formation of gargoyles tactically  
broke up to dodge the bullets, realizing a little too late that their attackers   
also possessed rocket packs.  
  
Lex reflexively went for his communicator.  
  
***************************************************************************  
  
Outside the "Convenance" Building,  
  
Matt looked up from the sports section as someone from the back   
of their stealth vehicle peeped up front. It was Michaels, the same man   
who had braved wearing one of his brother's corny pizza-delivery uniforms  
just to grab them all some dinner.  
  
"Anything going on out there?" he asked jovially, which was more than  
Matt could say for the rest of the force.  
  
"Nope. I haven't heard a peep from inside."  
  
**************************************************************************   
  
Castle Wyvern,  
  
Brooklyn sighed. He flopped backwards over the end of Hudson's  
reclining chair after a rather boring walk around the castle. His feet   
dangled over the top and his head rested against the seat cushion, and from this   
upside-down point of view, he noticed an issue of Biker's Plus hanging off of   
a coffee table. He picked it up, flipped it over, and started to read it.   
Damn. It was November's issue. Brooklyn sighed again and tossed it onto the   
floor.  
  
It was unfair that Goliath always put Broadway with Angela when it  
came to patrol. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been assigned to her.   
At this rate, the clan leader was going to screw up his chances with Angela   
without even knowing it. Or maybe, Goliath just didn't want Brooklyn and Angela   
to be mates. That would explain quite a few things...  
  
Before the same old resentment could bubble back up, his communicator  
made that awful squealing sound that signified someone was trying to get   
through. Rolling right-side-up, the beaked gargoyle replied.  
  
"Brooklyn, here..."  
  
"Brooklyn!!!" Static for a moment, and then, "Uh, you'd better get  
some help! We're over by the Willliamsburg Bridge--" More static, and the  
zz-khat, zz-khat sound of a laser gun. "--and we're being attacked by a group  
of people in masks! I can't even tell where Broadway and Angela are!"  
  
Brooklyn jumped on his feet, looking up to Hudson just as the old   
gargoyle came rushing into the room, he no doubt having heard the same signal  
on his communicator. "All right, Lex, we'll be right there! Keep your eye  
out for Angie and Broadway!" _For more reasons than one_, his mind added.  
  
Hudson nodded and patted the sword at his side. With Brooklyn in   
the lead, the two headed to the roof.  
  
Goliath, his arm around Elisa's shoulder, had just started to descend  
the stairs when the two breathless gargoyles appeared from below. The lavender  
giant and his human friend quickly split apart from one another before either   
Brooklyn or Hudson could notice.  
  
"Lexington and the others are in trouble, lad," Hudson explained   
briefly, grabbing Goliath by the arm.  
  
"What?! By whom?"  
  
"He said it was a group of masked attackers, and that he couldn't find  
Angela anywhere," Brooklyn replied rationally.   
  
Elisa and Goliath exchanged incredulous glances. "Hunters?" she   
ventured.  
  
"But, there was only one left..." Brooklyn started.  
  
"No matter, now!" Goliath boomed over the speculation. "We must go  
to help!" He and Hudson jumped up on a battlement, with Brooklyn lagging   
behind.  
  
Elisa caught Goliath by the tip of his wing. "Listen to me. Don't   
do anything rash."  
  
He looked back at her. "But, if they..."  
  
"Just get the others out of there, okay? Because this is the whole  
city you're fighting against. You take out any one of the humans, and you'll  
never be accepted. So please, be sensible, and I'll figure out something to  
do about this." She looked into his eyes, saw him relinquish the vengeful  
half of his anger without words, and soon he was off.  
  
Brooklyn sighed and followed suit. Elisa took one deep breath and   
started a brisk jog to her car, going past Xanatos, past Owen, past the  
security guard, and finally to the second level of Xanatos's parking garage.   
The dark haired woman popped into the Fairlane, buckling her seatbelt, with   
all intentions of heading to the scene of the fight.   
  
But, as her CB crackled, it became obvious that her job had other  
things in mind for her. Elisa banged her head on the steering wheel. She'd  
been so busy talking to Goliath that she'd totally forgotten her shift had  
started.  
  
"Maza," she responded, snapping up the radio.   
  
*"Jeeze, detective, took you long enough! There's a report of larceny  
on Canal. Get your but over there, now!!"*  
  
"Over." She slammed down the receiver and gunned the engine, then  
pulled out the garage with a spray of exhaust. Carefully going down the   
ramp, she eyed the cellular phone, a gift from her father, lying temptingly  
on the passenger seat cushion. "Oh, I hope this doesn't get the guys in   
trouble," Elisa muttered, flipping the phone open with her mouth and dialing  
the number she'd so casually stolen from Matt.  
  
***************************************************************************   
  
"Hello, Sixteenth Precinct, Manhattan. Where can I patch you through?"  
The desk clerk's eyes widened in surprise. "The Gargoyles Task Force? You  
should contact Matthew Bluestone at...oh, you don't know where he is? Just a  
minute, then."  
  
She hit the hold button and pointed the Sergeant to his desk. He   
scooped up the phone. "Yello, GTF manager for the sixteenth. How can I help   
you?...What? Oh, an anti-gargoyle group on the rampage at the Williamsburg   
Bridge? Uh-huh. Your name? Uh-huh, okay, sure."  
  
He hung up and gave the clerk a thumb's down. "Something serious,   
Sarge?" she asked.  
  
He shook his head. "A crazy detective from the twenty-third calling in   
someone's crazy hallucination. Like, with all the other complaints we get,   
we're gonna start responding to _this_ one."  
  
***************************************************************************  
  
The Williamsburg Bridge,  
  
Lexington ducked another air-borne missile, watching it hit the   
support cable of the bridge with a shower of sparks. The whole structure   
swayed, but thankfully didn't give.  
  
He'd been able to locate Broadway, who had been dealing with some of   
the goons to his left. Angela was still nowhere to be found, but the both of  
them assumed that she had taken her part of the fight to the ground. Well,  
they could only hope that, at least.   
  
Right now, however, Lexington and Broadway found themselves in a   
mutually compromising situation, with a line of rocket-adorned vigilantes  
approaching from the front and a machine gun positioned to shoot them from  
behind. He and Broadway looked to each other, then soared high to prepare for   
the assault.  
  
A disturbance from the West diverted the search lights from the   
two males, and the spray of machine-gun bullets followed those beacons.  
Lexington peered through the fog and could just make out the shapes of Goliath,  
Hudson and Brooklyn coming in for the rescue.  
  
"Well, it's about time!" Broadway bellowed as the red beaked gargoyle  
broke away from Goliath and came to them.  
  
"Yeah, well, sorry you _had_ to get yourselves into this," Brooklyn  
retorted, letting his aquamarine brother fume. He paused, roaring and plowing  
forward into the line of rocket-packed humans, and watched them roll away.  
He puffed. "Where's Angela?"  
  
"Why..."  
  
Lexington shook his head at Broadway. "We think she's down there. But,   
as you can tell, we've been a bit busy up here."  
  
But Brooklyn was streamlining for the ground already, and Broadway,  
suddenly understanding his brother's heroic intentions and not wanting to be  
shown up, quickly pursued him.  
  
"Wait!" Lex implored. "They've got machine guns down there!!!"  
  
Now hopelessly involved, Lexington rolled his eyes and floated down  
to the ground. And, as expected, two of the vans spotted the three male  
siblings and opened fire. Only swift action on Lex's part saved Broadway  
from becoming Swiss cheese. He threw all his weight against the larger   
gargoyle and drove them both to the relative safety of a small embankment.   
Broadway huffed and looked at the war zone in front of them.  
  
"What...why are they doing this?" Lexington whispered. Before him,  
sixty or so masked humans ran about, jumping from van to van, each time   
reappearing with either a gun, or something that looked like a sledgehammer   
one of the Looney Tunes might invest in.  
  
Broadway snapped his head to where one of the vans suddenly rocked,  
tipped on its side, and spilled the humans and its now-broken gun arsenal  
onto the pavement. "Angela!" he whispered, seeing that it was her that had  
caused the commotion. With Lex unable to stop him, he hurled himself out of   
their hiding place, just as a shriek from the sky indicated Brooklyn had   
located Goliath's daughter, as well.  
  
"Oh, hell," Lexington muttered, covering his face with his hands.  
  
***********************  
  
Somehow, Goliath managed to overcome the brightness of the lights   
that wanted to blind him, and still avoid a spray of bullets at the same   
time. His feet kicked out in that moment when he realized a foe was nearby.  
He was somewhat pleased to feel that the vain attempt managed to knock two  
men out of the air.  
  
They spiraled down to the madness below, but at the last minute their  
rocket packs flickered on and they landed next to one of the machine-gun brandishing  
vehicles. Hudson, next to him, cleared out the remainder of the area with a   
hard drive, which sent three men plunging across the river like a trio of   
skipping stones.  
  
Goliath, locating Angela, Brooklyn, and Broadway below him, desperately   
attempted to reach them. But, as had been the case all night, another blast   
of bullets and laser fire burst up from the ground level. He growled and   
whirled to avoid them, dragging Hudson with him.  
  
"We must get down there!"  
  
******************  
  
Angela tipped over her first van, both relieved and exhilarated to   
see that it put an end to a percentage of the gun fire. She looked up to   
where she heard her father's roar. He and Hudson were dealing with the   
airborne troops and not having too much luck, thanks to some of the other   
arsenals on the ground. She located one of the other vans and stealthily   
rushed it.  
  
She leaned over the weapons terminal, prepared to pounce like a cat  
without spilling any blood. She was close enough to hear every word they  
spoke.  
  
"You know, when my ex-boss told me about these things," the brown-blond   
woman at the controls said, "He used to get all bristled up." She aimed  
the machine gun arrangement upwards and blam, blam, almost hit Hudson. "But,   
Donal, I don't see what all the fuss was about."  
  
Angela couldn't afford to wait any longer. Her wings flared...  
  
"Angela!" Broadway, on foot, and Brooklyn, on air, called at the   
same time.  
  
Startled, Angela looked to them. In that brief, fraction of a second  
when she was distracted, Fleance noticed her presence, bounded up on the   
roof of the car, pumped a foreboding hammer, and swung it down at the young   
gargess.  
  
A blue, blinding light from the electrical expulsion erupted against   
the side of the van, just beside Angela. She was thrown almost right into  
Broadway and Brooklyn, while Fleance dove to the side. Donal Bain, the man   
who had been shot in the shoulder in the park and who had shared the weapons  
terminal with Fleance, patted out the small fire. He signaled for everyone  
to load up the vans. Fire engines were approaching.  
  
Lexington, who had been drawn to the scene because of the explosion,   
was knocked aside as a masked man pushed by him to assess the situation. The   
culprit was Banquo, and he looked around. He paged Castaway after seeing   
all the mess around him, and soon he had the approval to leave. And even as   
the two gargoyles from the sky, one lavender and one a much-too-recognizable   
brown, a departing van sped by and a blue-and-black clothed arm yanked Ross   
Banquo into the passenger side.   
  
Goliath touched down just in time to see the vehicle, towing the van  
Angela had displaced, zoom away. He stood to his full height with worry   
spreading across his face. Without words, Lex pointed to where Broadway and  
Brooklyn, and a dazed Angela, huddled.  
  
"Look what you did!" Broadway admonished, kneeling down and looking  
at Angela's stunned expression. "She's hurt because you snuck up on her like  
that!!"  
  
"ME!?!" Brooklyn was now bubbling like a volcano. He thrust his   
finger accusingly at his fat brother. "You could have kept a better eye on   
her! You were the one that let this happen in the first place!"  
  
Broadway roughly slapped away Brooklyn's offending claw. "We were   
_attacked_, bozo. If you had shown up sooner, this could have been stopped!!!"  
  
"Maybe if you weren't always so busy stuffing your face and pretending   
like you're smart enough to read, just to get her attention, you would have   
actually been able to defend yourself while we responded!" Brooklyn and Broadway   
were now beak-to-nose.  
  
"You're jealous!!! You think Angela likes me better! Well, maybe   
she does, because you're such a selfish jerk!"  
  
Brooklyn, eyes aglow, merely replied with a fierce roar and shoved   
Broadway onto the ground. Broadway snapped out his tail, grabbed Brooklyn   
by the ankle, and drew him down as well. What had been a little feuding   
a few weeks ago now climaxed at this point, with two warrior-born rookery  
brothers dueling for the favoritism of Angela.  
  
Another van skidded by and the sliding door flew open. A small canon   
emerged from the darkness, with a very intense-looking person manning it, and  
it fired one last, commentary laser at the group of gargoyles before it   
departed. The beam struck right above Broadway's wing, awaking Angela and   
ceasing the fight.  
  
Seyton struck the controls of the machine, disarming it. "I swear,   
I thought I had the shot," he needlessly explained to the others in the van.  
But they needed no explanation. Because, even though they hadn't really   
accomplished much that night, they were still happily energized.  
  
****************************************************************************  
  
Goliath and the others all reconvened a few blocks away, atop a building  
to watch as the fire engines inspected the place and left. Still fuming,  
he turned to regard the two cowering youths behind him.  
  
"We have had this discussion before!" he growled. "Once, when Elisa's  
brother was hired by Xanatos. I will not condone this quarreling any longer.  
A clan is one, together, and in times like these it must stay as one! You  
two will be punished, undoubtedly, but perhaps moreso in your grief for what  
troubles you have caused the rest of us!" With that statement, he nodded to   
Angela, offering her his help.  
  
"I'm fine, father." She shot a glance at Broadway and Brooklyn, who  
cringed back even farther. "I'll follow in a minute."  
  
Her father nodded and he and Hudson flew off. Lexington held for a   
moment, torn between his loyalty for his brothers and his desire to not get   
involved. He finally sighed and departed, as well, giving them a look that  
basically communicated, "Well, you got yourself into this mess..."  
  
Angela narrowed her eyes and approached the two. Brooklyn stuck out   
his hand in apology, but she brushed it away. "I do not understand this!"  
she finally exclaimed. "I told you that a mate was something I would _chose_,  
with time, when I was ready, and that I was not a prize to be won! You two have   
learned nothing since Brode!"  
  
"But, Angela..." Broadway tried.  
  
"Do not try to win me over again!" she demanded, fiercely, though in a   
whisper. "Last time, this fighting almost got Elisa killed. This time, _I_   
almost got killed. Until you realize that this clan can only stand together,"   
she poked at each of them, "I will not give either of you the attention that you   
think can only be gained by breaking it _apart_."  
  
***************************************************************************  
  
The "Convenance" Building,  
  
After a moment of debate, during which his mind juggled the notion  
from one side of the scale to the other, Reuben picked up the pen and signed  
his name to the sheet. Now, nonviolence was a thing of the past. "The  
Quarrymen Patrol," he whispered. "Wouldn't father be surprised!"  
  
"C'mon, kid," the man and friend of his father who had driven him here,   
said. "Let's get you home before your good old Dad suspects anything."  
  
Castaway watched, sickly content, as the last of his attendance departed   
that evening's event. "All went according to plan. How did our other little   
excursion fare?" He turned expectantly to Titus.  
  
"As far as I can tell, the fire crew got to the Williamsburg long after  
the last of our guys left. Unfortunately, they also got there too late to   
see the _gargoyles_ leave." Titus leaned against the wall and pulled out a   
cigarette. "Smoke?"  
  
Castaway held up his hand in negation. "Sorry. I find that it's   
hazardous to my health."  
  
"Hmm," Titus mused, rolling the Marlboro between his fingers. "You're   
still one of those guys that figure chemical illness will kill them before   
the gun shots or the knife wounds. Funny."  
  
"At least our involvement in the attack will not be discovered. And  
they _will_ suspect the gargoyles. How could they not?"  
  
"And they'll suspect them even more after this gets on the news...or  
better, a promotional video," a new voice added. Both men turned under the   
dim light to regard Rift, with a mini-cam on her shoulder. "You can't get   
rid of me that easily, Jonny-boy."  
  
"What have you now?"  
  
She hit rewind and let him look through the scope. "I saw everything   
tonight, and I think those gargoyles work better for us than any of your paid  
actors could!"   
  
Castaway could see the scene where the two gargoyles attacked each   
other, and where Fleance had used the hammer in great advertisement of their   
cause. "And what do you propose we give you in return?"  
  
She batted her lashed innocently. "Pardon?"  
  
"Rift," Titus warned from the sidelines.  
  
She grinned, all purple-lipped and pierced tongue. "Well, now that you   
mention it, I wouldn't mind being a little more 'in' on this situation..."  
  
**************************************************************************  
  
The Twenty-Third Precinct House,  
  
Matt stretched, yawned, and walked into the precinct, expecting a   
stale donut, some disgusting coffee, and a stack of assignments to be found  
on his desk. Well, he got all three, as well as something extra. And that  
was Elisa, arms crossed, with a very large scowl on her face.  
  
"Oh, crap, what is it?" he asked, not wanting to exhaust himself  
with an argument. He collapsed in his chair, reaching for his coffee, but she  
grabbed it away from him.  
  
"I thought the GTF was out there for justice, Matt!"  
  
He looked up to see that she now had her hands on her hips. "It is.  
What are you so upset about?"  
  
A perplexed look passed her features. "What has got me so upset...?!  
Last night, Lex and Broadway and Angela were attacked by masked men at the   
Williamsburg Bridge. I called the GTF number and told them, only to find   
out that you guys never showed up!!!"  
  
Elisa's red-headed ex-partner sat up straighter. "Really? When did  
you call in?"  
  
"Eleven."  
  
He scratched his chin and shrugged, irking Elisa. "You've got to   
understand, Elisa," he tried, grabbing her arm. "Every day both of our   
offices have been getting prank phone calls, false alarms. When someone calls  
in, then, we have to wait until it's supported by two other calls. That's   
Guild's strategy."  
  
Elisa uncrossed her arms and stepped back, forgiving. She sheepishly   
handed him back his coffee. "I'm sorry, Matt. I just...it got a little out   
of control. How did it go at that meeting last night?"  
  
"Boring as hell," he replied, tearing a piece from his rubbery jelly  
donut. "Look, Elisa, I'm only the head of the Task Force for this precinct  
and the nineteenth. But I guess I can check in with the head of the sixteenth  
and see what I can do about changing our policy. Okay?"  
  
Elisa beamed at him and patted his shoulder. "Thanks, Matt, I really  
appreciate it."  
  
"You going up to the castle?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah. In about an hour, when I have my break. Why?"  
  
He regarded his cup of coffee, then pinched his nose and sucked it down.   
"Can you tell Broadway and the others I really want to visit, but I can't   
until I get this all sorted out?"  
  
"No problem."  
  
"Oh, and Elisa?" Matt asked one more time, before she could leave,  
and he was a little bit amused at her exasperated expression. "If it's any   
consolation, I'd rather be out chasing the Illuminati than working on this  
stupid assignment."  
  
"Ugh, Matt. Doesn't it ever bother you that you'll never find that  
damned society?"  
  
Matt smiled to himself. "Nope."  
  
****************************************************************************  
  
Castle Wyvern,  
  
The sun set, out of sight, freeing the night-born gargoyles from their  
daytime slumber. Immediately, Broadway and Brooklyn shed their stone skin and  
turned expectantly toward Angela, only to find that she was still keeping   
true to her punishment.   
  
"Hey, Angela, I'm almost done reading that..." Broadway started, but  
halted when Angela flew off without a response.  
  
The two gargoyle brothers sighed. Brooklyn turned to Lexington.   
"You want to play Zelda?" he asked eagerly, ready to take his mind off last  
night's events.   
  
Lex shook his head. "Sorry. I've got to check my E-mail and chat.  
Bye!"  
  
Brooklyn scratched the back of his neck, knowing that the only one  
left on the parapet was Broadway. His pudgy blue gargoyle brother tugged   
his fanned ears in all masculinity.   
  
"Females, you know?" he commented.  
  
Brooklyn grinned ear to ear, this time in earnest, and not in his   
usual, sarcastic way. "Yeah. You give them what you think they want, and,  
pow! they get all upset."  
  
Broadway chuckled. "You know, ever since Xanatos gave you that game,   
I've wanted to play Zelda."  
  
"Great!" the red-skinned gargoylescent threw an arm around Broadway's  
neck and pretended to give him a noogie. "It's no fun when I don't have   
someone's ass to whoop."  
  
Goliath, on the tower above, watched with faint relief as the once-  
hostile rookery brothers disappeared into the castle as friends. Finally,  
he could turn back to his own matters...without having to worry about  
the integrity of his clan.  
  
The large clan leader looked to the stairwell, as he had the night   
before, in the hopes that a certain someone would emerge from it. He   
counted the seconds during which he waited, held his breath, and then released   
it when no one appeared. His shoulders sank to his chest. Goliath let his  
tail curl dejectedly around his right heel.  
  
Had it all been a dream, then, the past night? Had what he had   
perceived to be their personal conversation only been a manifestation of his   
hopes and dreams? _Was_ it meant to be?  
  
Someone scuffled up the stairs, suddenly. Goliath inhaled sharply and  
opened his wings, but he wouldn't have to hold his breath long this time.   
Elisa emerged from below, her hands pocketed in her red leather jacket. Happily,  
Goliath resettled his wings on his shoulders, all his qualms about whether  
or not the discussion between them had ever occurred subsiding.  
  
"Elisa?" he asked. Somehow, he still managed to carry his regal  
stature and refrained from showing his immense satisfaction. "What brings you   
here?"   
  
She flipped her long, beautiful hair back, away from her almond eyes.   
"I was coming to see if everyone is okay. Was anyone hurt last night?"   
Elisa put her hand on his arm.  
  
"Not seriously, no. Although I believe Angela finally settled the   
squabble between Brooklyn and Broadway. They are finally on speaking terms."  
  
She laughed conservatively. "Well, that was due to come." She patted   
his arm again. "Goliath, last night, no one who showed up at the bridge  
could find proof that someone attacked you. Those attackers cleaned up good.   
And word is that the meeting that happened last night went pretty well.   
Whoever orchestrated it, well, has got a lot of people on their side."  
  
Goliath looked over his shoulder, at the horizon. "I wish that it  
was easier for my kind, Elisa...but it never has been. We are what we are.  
The only thing we can do is be patient...and hope. _That_ is what Demona  
failed to understand."  
  
She pressed her head against his bicep. "Well, I promise you, I   
understand it perfectly." Elisa paused and looked back up at him. "You didn't  
think I was coming tonight, did you?"  
  
Goliath smiled, reached his hand to her hair, almost withdrew it, but  
finally stroked the dark locks. "Actually, no. I didn't. And it appears I   
was wrong."  
  
Elisa laughed again, her true, cheery laugh, not the empty laugh she'd   
been using to hide her misgivings. One of her hallmark smirks followed. "Boy.   
A guy who admits when he's wrong. You're one in a million, Big Guy!"  
  
He chuckled as well, not caring if he didn't understand the true meaning  
of her comment. They hugged, finally closing the gap that had been formed  
by the few months of absence. And even though Elisa would leave in half  
an hour, and even though Goliath would soon continue the patrol, they spent  
the rest of that time talking upon that tower where they had kissed.  
  
===========================================================================  
  
THE END  
  
Pretty sappy, huh?  
  
Well, what's taking you so long?   
e-mail me your comments at   
niamhgold@hotmail.com !!!  
  
Next up (I think):  
Demona? (groan) Like she's  
just what the clan needs   
right now! And is Angela  
ever going to forgive   
Broadway and Brooklyn?  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
